


Siblings

by Whiskeyismysunshine



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskeyismysunshine/pseuds/Whiskeyismysunshine
Summary: This isn't fanfiction. Just a creative writing story I wrote and wanted some feedback on.Two siblings are headed out of town for a camping trip but they don't make it that far.





	

Caleb and I were on our way out of town. A sibling camping trip planned for three months; fifteen miles out of town and only two nights actually in the woods. It was worth it. We had stopped for last minute hotdogs and buns and hit the tenth and final stoplight on our way out. We had been “sibling fighting” (rock, paper, scissors) over who got to choose the soundtrack when a sudden laugh tore out of his throat.  
“Did I ever tell you the joke about the Mexican firefighter? No? Okay, There was a Mexican firefighter and he had two sons. He named the first one Jose and the second HoseB!” His laughter snapped off as the semi hit our truck. Time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously. There was so much happening and yet, I saw every detail; I saw the door cave in and wrap around his side, the dashboard warped and the airbags deployed. Even when the white bag caught the side of my face and whipped my head against the back of the seat, I saw everything. Every shard of glass piercing my brother’s still-laughing face seemed to reflect my frozen face back to me. I saw everything and could do nothing to stop it. I couldn’t even scream.  
The semi had run a redlight and caught us in the driver side door. Caleb didn’t feel it, they said. It was painless for him, is what they kept saying. I was awake the whole time. I knew when the fire trucks arrived and when they brought out the Jaws-of-Life. That was the hardest part, I think. Seeing my “family” as they came to get us out of the truck. Their grim, tear-streaked faces as they did their jobs, pretending it was just another extrication. Our father had spent twenty-two years as a local firefighter. Caleb had only been on for about four years. Dad looked to him like a protégé- he was so proud that he was following in his footsteps, not that he would have admitted it. They gave us hospital beds side-by-side. They said he could still hear us, that there was a chance he’d wake up. I didn’t believe them. That person on the bed across from me was not my brother anymore.  
Mom sat by his bed, her back to me, scribbling furiously into her notebook, documenting every breath and twitch as if it meant something. When I moved or coughed she would jump, as if forgetting that her daughter was also there. Weirdly, Dad was the one that sat by me and cried. I never knew what to do when he did this. He was always my rock, the fortress that never caved. But, there was something about almost losing both of his kids broke that iron wall into pieces and seemed to hurl those shards straight into my heart. He’d grab my hand and bury his face into it, whispering “I should’ve… Why… My fault… Why the hell…” over and over again.  
The day Caleb died, my parents seemed to switch roles; Dad became stony and silent whereas Mom became a banshee. She screamed and cried and beat at the staff when they tried to enter the room. She refused to accept the fact that her “baby” was gone. Dad disappeared for a few hours, never said where to. I wished I could have disappeared. My broken ribs and shoulder protested any time I attempted to roll over and put my back to the scene she was making. That night was the last time my parents came to visit me in the hospital. I was there for six weeks. My brother died. And it was like I had died, too.


End file.
